


Secret Codes and Paper Stars

by ryukoishida



Series: Sing When You're In Love [7]
Category: Arslan Senki | Heroic Legend of Arslan
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 11:58:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13270989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryukoishida/pseuds/ryukoishida
Summary: “It looks like Gieve rewrote the contents of my card to help me convey my feelings across to you, and he’s done so in a rather… non-subtle way. But he’s got one thing right in that poem,” Arslan laughs, the sound echoing like shimmering sunlight around them, warm and heady.Prompt: Arslan/Estelle Secret Santa.





	Secret Codes and Paper Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Remember that self-indulgent idol/musician AU? Yeah, it’s back. Sorry.

“What have you got there, Arslan?”

 

Gieve, one of the top-selling pop artists in the country and known for his flirtatious ways in the industry circle — casually slips into the hideous plastic orange chair adjacent to the young idol who’s so focused on his task — pen tip tapping against the smooth surface of a card scrawled with neat handwriting and brows knitted in a deep frown — that he doesn’t notice the presence of the other man until Gieve clears his throat again.

 

“Oh, Gieve!” Arslan exclaims with a weak smile, the bruised shadows under his eyes much more prominent even with a layer of make-up on under the white fluorescent light of the television network station’s dressing room. He places his pen down at last and takes a tentative sip of his coffee, but winces when the lukewarm bitterness spreads across his tongue. He quickly pushes the mug away, narrowly missing the make-up kit set on the side of the counter.

 

“Working on a new song?” Gieve asks, an eyebrow quirked up in curiosity.

 

Arslan rarely drinks caffeine because he knows it’d wreck his voice, so for the young man to be consuming coffee willingly is a rare sight in and of itself.

 

“This?” Arslan glances down at the paper set on the table with a helpless little laugh, “No, it’s for the Secret Santa tomorrow.”

 

Gieve gives an exaggerated gasp. “Do you mean to tell me that you still haven’t gotten your Secret Santa partner a gift yet?”

 

“I have! But I thought it’d be nice to add a greeting card as well…” Arslan lowers his head, cheeks tinted a light blush before he continues in an uncertain tone, “… don’t you think?”

 

Before Gieve can give him any advice — for when would be the best time to help out a fellow idol if not now? — the door swings open and a staff calls for the younger singer, “Arslan, please head over to Studio B for stand-by. They’ll be ready for you soon.”

 

“Thanks,” Arslan nods with a quiet smile that has the power to cause thousands of female fans all over the country to coo and swear to protect him at all costs. Facing Gieve once more, he says with a more relaxed grin, “I’ll see you tomorrow at the gathering, then.”

 

“Sure,” Gieve waves goodbye with his usual charming smile and watches the silver-haired musician leave the room.

 

Tucking a piece of bright purple hair behind the curve of his ear, Gieve’s gaze rests again on the greeting card that Arslan has been grueling over for what seems to be a long while. From Arslan’s reaction just a few minutes ago, Gieve has a fairly good guess of who the recipient of the card is, and because he’s always been a curious person who knows no fear or bounds, he delicately picks up the card and reads the content inside.

 

“Oh, Arslan you precious boy,” Gieve sighs, resting his chin in the cradle of his palm as his eyes roam over the genuine nature of Arslan’s words, “how do you expect her to understand your affections if you don’t make it more obvious? Women need to be praised and worshipped, and this simply will not do.”

 

With a determined gleam to his eyes, Gieve picks up the pen that Arslan had been using just minutes ago and begins to write.    

 

“There you are, Gieve! Farangis has been looking all over for you!” Isfan pauses when he sees the envelope in his boyfriend’s hand and the guilty shift of his eyes. “What is that?”

 

“Hello darling, good to see you too,” Gieve greets him, eyes half-lidded to accentuate the kohl eyeliner and the bright turquoise of his irises while his lips, tinted slightly with lip-gloss, curved up into a playful grin.

 

“Don’t give me that look…” Isfan groans as he walks over, “that’s your ‘I did something bad and I’m trying to get out of trouble by seducing you’-look; it won’t work on me, not this time.”

 

“Oh, is that right?” Gieve saunters up to his lover, hips swaying purposefully as he places his arm on Isfan’s shoulder and head tilted just so that the slender line of his neck is displayed directly in Isfan’s view.

 

“Whatever you’re thinking of doing with that envelope, you better put it down before you cause some serious damage,” Isfan warns, taking a step back and peels Gieve’s arm off of his shoulder.   

 

“But don’t you want to help Arslan get the girl of his dreams?” Gieve pouts, but obeys regardless, putting the card back down on the table.

 

“Is that what this is about? Gieve, you know better than to poke your nose into other people’s business — especially when it involves someone’s romantic affairs.”

 

“You’re heartless, Isfan, simply heartless.”

 

“Come on, you little demon, Farangis will have your head if you’re late for your interview.”

 

-

 

“Estelle, congratulations again on your success with the single ‘I Only Have Feelings for You’,” the host grins with bright enthusiasm at the youngest member of the all-girls unit, L.E.A.P., “it sounds like the track will have a big chance to win Parsian Music Award’s Best Duet of the Year.”

 

“Thank you,” Estelle nods with a stiff but polite smile, blond curls resting over her shoulder in a simple yet elegant side-ponytail. It looks like the host is waiting for her to elaborate, but if the host has done any preparation at all before the interview, he’d have known that out of the four members of L.E.A.P., Estelle is the quietest and most reserved, and it will take more than just the normal amount of prompting to get the girl talking.

 

The host continues after a slight pause. “You were collaborating with the up-and-coming idol Arslan on this single, and there were rumors while you two were recording in the studio as well as filming the music video. How did you like working with Arslan? Did you two hit it off right away?”

 

The polite smile Estelle has been trained to work on and almost perfected is turning shaky at this moment, and sitting beside her quietly, Parizad, the eldest of the four women and leader of the unit, quickly squeezes Estelle’s hand, half in warning and half in support.

 

“We had different stances regarding the direction of the song we wanted to take at first,” Estelle starts after exhaling slowly, her topaz eyes sharp and unforgiving, “but Arslan is a pleasant and respectable artist to work with, and I hope everyone will focus on the song we’ve worked so hard on instead of unfounded rumors about something that doesn’t exist in the first place.”

 

“Alfreed, can you please turn that off? It’s bad enough that I had to sit through that bullshit of an interview. I really don’t need to watch myself being disgraced on national television.” With an exhausted sigh, Estelle pleads with her teammate as she finishes the final touches of wrapping up her gift for the Secret Santa event.  

 

“I don’t get what you’re so upset about,” Layla chirps from the other side of the living-room as she adjusts her dress in front of the full-length mirror near the front door of their shared apartment unit. “Rumors are just more opportunities for you to advertise your song, isn’t it?”

 

“Estelle, it’s wonderful that you always speak so honestly — it’s part of your charm and fans love it when you put that part of yourself into your music — but in this industry, you’ll need to learn how to carefully handle questions like the ones you got asked in that interview,” Parizad finishes the last drags of her tea, and on her way to the kitchen to put the mug away, she affectionately pats Estelle on the head like an older sister would to her younger sibling. “We all hate those kinds of nosy questions, and it’ll take time to get used to the fact that as public figures, we have very little privacy, but it’s an issue we have to get accustomed to.”   

 

“I know I still have tons to improve on,” Estelle mumbles, lowering her head.

 

“Your socializing skills, especially,” Alfreed teases, and narrowly misses the cushion thrown at her direction.

 

“You’re already doing so well, Estelle,” Parizad shoots Alfreed a look before she sends Estelle a kind smile, “don’t put too much pressure on yourself, all right? We’re all in this together.”

 

Estelle nods, her heart swelling at Parizad’s sincere words.

 

“Girls, it’s almost time. We should head out.”

 

-

 

The Secret Santa is a success, Gieve applauds himself inwardly. As the organizer of the event, he’s proud to see his friends and acquaintances gather in the penthouse that he and Isfan share, laughing and chatting while nursing drinks in their hands.

 

Isfan’s two Kugsha dogs, Bahram and Kayvan, are strutting around the unit, earning friendly pets and occasionally food scraps from the guests who can’t resist the fluffy canines.

 

Making friends for Gieve is as easy as bewitching his fans with his sultry looks and attractive voice, but there are few he considers close acquaintances. Among those who have been invited to his holiday gathering, many of them have become his intimate friends over the years he spent in the entertainment industry: Arslan, his overly-protective manager Daryun, and the young idol’s talented make-up artist best friend Elam are talking quietly in the corner of the living-room; Nasrin and Kishward, who are managers of Ecbatana’s rising talents L.E.A.P. and the Knights of Survival, respectively, are talking to Narsus, who is infamous for his outrageous yet popular costume designs; the members of L.E.A.P. are chatting with the sister trio, Patna, Kura, and Yulin; and the men of the pop-rock band, the Knights of Survival, are drinking merrily and noisily discussing ideas for their upcoming live concert.  

 

“Okay, okay, who’s next?” Someone’s shouting excitedly over the chatter.

 

Most of the gifts have been distributed and opened; a lot of them are joke gifts that either make the recipients choke in laughter or roll their eyes, but there are a few thoughtful presents thrown in as well. 

 

Gieve retrieves a random gift from the cardboard box placed beneath the Christmas tree, and reading the tag, he announces with a smirk, “Estelle, this one’s for you!”

 

A series of cheering and clapping explode as Estelle makes her way to the center of the circle and receive her gift.

 

Estelle puts the card aside, and then carefully unwraps the paper, revealing an elegant, tall glass bottle filled with paper stars in shades of dark harvest gold to light champagne gold. There must be at least 200 tiny stars in the bottle; the colours are reminiscent of the hues of Estelle’s eyes, and she can’t help but think that the person who folded the stars must have kept this in mind.

 

Or it could have just been a coincidence, Estelle shakes her head slightly to clear her thoughts.

 

“Wow, whoever gave you this must have spent hours folding those stars,” Layla whistles from the side, pulling Estelle out of her trance. “Does the card say who it’s from?”

 

There had been no specific rules set about revealing the identity of the Secret Santa, so some of them have chosen to write their names on cards while others have to venture guesses after they’ve received their presents.

 

With shivering fingers, Estelle tears the envelop open with less grace than she has with the gift-wrap. The front of the card contains typical holiday greetings with a pleasant watercolour painting of a winter scene — nothing special or offensive — yet as her eyes follow the trail of words written inside the card, the colour of her cheeks grows more and more red with each second passing.

 

The crowd hushes until all they can hear is the fine clinking of glass against wood as someone places their drink on the table.

 

“Estelle… Estelle, what’s wrong?” Parizad is the first to notice something strange about the young idol’s reaction.

 

“Arslan,” Estelle’s eyes turn sharply to meet the man’s startled, midnight blue gaze.

 

“Y-Yes?” Despite the eerily cold tone of her voice, Arslan seems impeccably calm.

 

“Come with me.” Estelle stomps over to where Arslan is standing, the glass bottle of stars and card still in one hand, and briskly grabs hold of Arslan’s wrist, pulling him away from the crowd who has begun to make teasing comments and catcalling sounds.

 

They ignore the jeering, push through the crowd, and manage to find some privacy on the massive balcony that acts as an outdoor playground for the dogs after slamming the sliding glass door shut behind them, to the disappointment of the on-looking audience.

 

“Now, now, just let those lovebirds be,” Gieve consoles his friends and cleverly avoids the pointed glare that Isfan is giving him.

 

Even in the depth of winter, the city’s temperature rarely drops below 18 degrees Celsius, but in the evening with moisture heavy in the air, the breeze is chilling to the bone. It’s hard for Estelle to pretend otherwise, for the black cocktail dress she’s chosen to wear tonight is a sleeveless one that reaches just above her knees, the pale gold bow tied around her neck is almost suffocating when she realizes that Arslan, bewildered as he is, is still staring at her, waiting patiently for her to speak.  

 

“What the hell is the meaning of this?” Estelle waves the card in front of Arslan’s face, her voice shaking in a mixture of anger and bewilderment. “Is this a joke to you?”

 

“W-what do you mean?” He asks, utterly confused. Sure, he’s written the card and has hastily stuffed it in the envelop yesterday without double-checking for mistakes. Had he made some sort of grammatical or spelling errors so unforgiveable that Estelle is getting mad at him?

 

“Read it yourself!” Estelle, cheeks still tinted with heat despite the cold, thrusts the card into Arslan’s hands.

 

Five words into the poem that is obviously not written in his own handwriting, Arslan immediately understands why Estelle is acting this way. His only explanation: “Gieve…”

 

“What does this have to do with Gieve?”

  
“I think he was trying to help me out,” Arslan chuckles, closing the card and tucking it into his back pocket, “but as usual, the more he tries to extinguish the fire, the more likely he triggers a flood instead.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“It looks like Gieve rewrote the contents of my card to help me convey my feelings across to you, and he’s done so in a rather… non-subtle way. But he’s got one thing right in that poem,” Arslan laughs, the sound echoing like shimmering sunlight around them, warm and heady.

 

“If you can even call _that_ poetry,” Estelle smirks, her shoulders much more relaxed now that she knows what’s going on.

 

“When I was folding those stars,” Arslan nods at the bottle in Estelle’s hand, the paper inside gleaming slightly under the moonlight, “I was thinking about how the colour of your eyes is also quite similar, only yours shifts depending on the light of the day and your mood.” 

 

“What… are you saying?” Estelle can feel herself stiffening up again when Arslan walks closer, her back rod-straight, but Arslan merely shrugs off his suit jacket and gently lays it over her shoulders to shield her from the night’s chilling breeze.

 

“I’m sorry,” Arslan apologizes, laughter low and smoky and his eyes are dark and endless when Estelle glances up to face him properly. “I should make my intentions clearer to avoid any more misunderstandings, shouldn’t I?”

 

He lightly pries the bottle of stars out of Estelle’s hand and places it on the floor, and then holding her hands tenderly in his, Arslan smiles softly and asks, “Estelle, will you do me the honor of going out with me?”

**Author's Note:**

> Extra Notes:
> 
> L.E.A.P. (Manager: Nasrin)  
> \- Estelle (was a Gospel singer before she was recruited; joined unit because she needed the money for her family)  
> \- Alfreed (Merlane is a bassist in a successful band, and she wants to exceed him with her own talent)  
> \- Parizad (dancer; charismatic leader)  
> \- Layla (all-rounder; can easily befriend anyone she talks to)
> 
> The Knights of Survival (Manager: Kishward)   
> [Do you see the irony in the name? Please forgive me.]  
> \- Jimsa (guitar, vocals)  
> \- Jaswant (keyboard)  
> \- Merlane (bass)  
> \- Zaravant (guitar)  
> \- Tus (drums)


End file.
